


Harmony

by SnowStormSkies



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Puberty, Sibling Bonding, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowStormSkies/pseuds/SnowStormSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was a reaction to losing Dad, maybe it was just a Bill thing, maybe it was a thing that needed Mama’s wise words, Tom didn’t know. But now it was going to be impacting their music, and Bill couldn’t run away from that.</p><p>Tom wouldn’t let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harmony

**Author's Note:**

> _The prompt from the ToHo Kink Meme: In the Schrei era when Bill's voice breaks; he freaks out and starts thinking his life is over because it'll screw up his singing, and Tom tries comforting him about it because he went through the same thing, etc. Haven't thought of an ending, but just imagine how fluffy it would be! :3_
> 
> I wrote this over a year ago for the kink meme prompt above, but I think my perceptions of the characters have changed greatly - which feels very strange, but interesting...
> 
> I played around here with twin bonds, and what it could mean. It's not twincesty as such, but if you're that way inclined, you could read that way :D
> 
> Please, do let me know what you think.

 

Tom stared.

Gustav stared.

Georg stared.

Bill covered his mouth with both hands and turned pink. He had good reason to. Tom fully agreed with the sentiment that Bill was broadcasting at full volume into his mind using their twin bond– _What the holy fuck was that noise?_

Give Bill his due, he had not always possessed the most tuneful of voices, and truth be told, Tom often told him to shut the fuck up because he was getting a headache but Bill usually had this sweet, slightly husky, raw voice that sounded great with the rock sort of music they were currently practising and that Gordon had made them listen to in the car. It was a little rough, vaguely dirty sounding, and apparently made girls feel all weird inside. Tom didn’t really get it but it wasn’t as though he was a girl, so he wasn’t supposed to. He just liked the sound of it, liked how it sounded against the twanging of his guitar.

That noise, however, hadn’t been husky. It hadn’t been raw. It hadn’t even been vaguely tuneful.  
Georg coughed, pretending ignorance, and Gustav rallied. “Let’s start again,” He suggested, obviously deciding not to comment on what the ever fuck it was that had come out of Bill’s mouth because he was a drummer, and drummers don’t deal with singing.

“Good idea.” Bill nodded fervently, and Tom did as well. Maybe it was just a one off – maybe Bill had just tried to go for the wrong note again and fucked up – _Did not!_ Bill interrupted his thoughts with their bond and Tom stuck out his tongue. Bill stuck up his middle finger and lifted up his lyric sheet again. _You’ll be fine,_ Tom reassured him, playing up the big brother role again and although Bill glared at him in front of Georg and Gustav, inside Tom’s mind, he felt Bill push back with _thank you._ Tom just grinned widely at him, sending reassurance over the bond, hoping to play off Bill’s worries about what had just happened.

Gustav set the beat going again, and Tom places his fingers on the strings of his guitar, ready for his part when Georg had found the right beat – and there it came. He was off, in his element and he could feel Bill getting back into that headspace again, the one where it was just music and sound and nothing but them in this practise studio. The first verse went just fine – no fuck ups from anyone and Tom felt tense as they approached the chorus but that too passed without incident and they swung into the second verse.

_Ha, told you so!_ he gloated at Bill who sent back, _fuck off, I’m working,_ and Tom knew that everything was alright again. Bill hadn’t faltered where he had before and they had only three more verses to go and everything would be fine again. Stupid Bill for getting so worked up, he thought and then he hit a bum note and felt Bill send him a _serves you right, Tom_ which meant that he would have to make his twin pay for that later. They were approaching the chorus again, and Bill braced himself for that difficult note at the end of the second line but Tom was confident that Bill would make –

Holy shit, that was _**not**_ the right note.

Gustav’s sticks hit the bass drum with a clatter before dropping to the floor and Georg’s hand slipped off of his bass guitar, bringing the song to an abrupt end as the amp objected to the rough treatment. Bill stared at them, his hands over his mouth again, and slowly turning pink again. Tom could feel his brother’s confusion and growing fear combine with Bill’s perfectionist nature and he struggled to get the fucking strap of his guitar over his head before – ah, fuck it, anyway. Bill dropped his lyric sheet, bolting out of the door and down the stairs, his trainers pounding on the wood floor. After a few seconds, Tom heard the back door bang, and he sighed; Bill had left the building.

His guitar strap chose that moment to suddenly cooperate and let itself be drawn over his head. Stupid fucking thing, he thought savagely, as he brought his guitar down to rest between his knees. Now it decides to work with him, after Bill is gone.

“What the fuck? Why’d he do that?” Gustav said, leaning down to retrieve his sticks.

“How should I know?” Georg kicked the stick by his foot back to Gustav. “Ask Tom.”

Thanks, Georg. “Tom, unlike Bill, is still in the room.” Tom snapped back, pushing his dreadlocks out his face as he stood up. He could feel the worry pouring off of Bill, and he knew it was deeper than just hitting two bum notes in a song. “I’m going –“

“To sort Bill out, I hope.” David appeared in the door way, holding a phone to his shoulder. “He just ran past me and out the backdoor. Looked very upset as well.”

“Don’t look at us!” Gustav said, raising his hands, “Ask Tom!”

“Did you and Bill have another fight again?” David said, his face turning into that annoying ‘I’m your manager and here’s a lecture’ face that Bill and Tom both loathed. “You know you shouldn’t upset Bill like that –“

“Why the fuck is it always my fault?” Tom muttered, stowing his guitar on the rack (in the back of his mind, he could hear Gordon’s insistent voice telling him never to just abandon his instrument – “Always put it away properly, Tom! Your guitar deserves respect!”)

“Because you’re his big brother and I’ve seen you two fight. It ain’t pretty. Was it another tiff that sent Bill over the edge?”

“First of all, David,” Tom pointed his finger at the man, “we do not have tiffs.” He waved his fingers in quotations marks as he said ‘tiffs’ and both Georg and Gustav laughed behind their hands as Tom kicked off and David’s frown got worse. “Me and Bill, we fight. We have arguments. We scream at each other, and throw shit, and beat the tar out of each other. Whatever you want to call it but we do not have tiffs. Girls have tiffs. We are boys. And secondly, it’s not my fucking fault this time. He hit two bum notes and then lit out of here like the end of the world was coming.”

“It will be coming if you’re both not back in here practising in the next hour.” David pointed his phone at the door. “Either fix your brother or prepare to work on some instrumentals but I want some music coming from this room by the time I finish this phone call.” He stomped away, and Tom huffed as he threw his middle finger up at Jost’s back. Fuck him and the horse he rode in on, Tom didn’t need this today. He just wanted to make some goddamn music with his twin and his friends. Was that too much to ask?

Today, the answer was apparently **yes.**

“Alright, gimme some time?” He said, running a hand over his dreads. He needed Bill to help him wax them again, he thought idly as he tugged on one of them, waiting for a response from the other two.  
“Sure. We’ll carry on while you go and fix Bill.” Gustav nodded, throwing his chin towards the door, “Hurry up though. Jost’ll be pissed if you aren’t back in an hour.”

“It’s Bill. When is anything ever _quick_ with Bill?” Tom shrugged and Georg laughed, clapping his hands together as he rocked on the seat. “Shut up, Hagen. Oh, and we’ll need ice cream when we go out again.”

“What?”

“Trust me.” He said, as he left the room. Bill needed ice cream; he always did after crying and Tom was fairly sure that the feeling he was getting from Bill was him crying. Or very close to it, but that was beside the point. Tom made his way into the kitchen, hearing the door to the music booth slam shut and he sighed. This would probably take longer than just an hour but David would just have to suck it. Bill was upset and that meant that Tom has his work cut out to make his other half happy again.

In the kitchen, he went to the freezer, dug through the frozen vegetables and other shit that David insisted that they buy to appease their mothers’ worries about eating healthy and found at the back a tub of both Bill and his own favourite ice cream. Vanilla with strawberry pieces and so worth every single euro it cost because it was sent straight from Heaven. Reaching in the drawer under the microwave, Tom withdrew the other important part of the dessert; a large packet of gummy bears (he and Bill were going to lose every tooth in their head from the amount of sugar they ate but who the fuck cared?) and he retrieved two spoons from the washing up on the draining board as well, stuffing them in his oversized pocket.

Suitably armed, Tom went on the hunt for Bill.

 

-

 

He found him sat under a tree in the back garden of the studio house, huddled in a ball on the grass, skin white and t-shirt dark in the shade of the oak.

“Bill.” Tom called, waiting for a second before, “Bill?”

“-ut?” A vague sound came from the ball. Bill didn’t even look up at Tom; just carried on pressing his head into his knees, and Tom rolled his eyes. Typical. Bill was feeling dramatic still but Tom knew how to fix that. Or at least make it better.

He didn’t say anything else, just threw himself down beside Bill, cuddling up close to the ball of Bill. He dug the spoons out, of his pocket, waved one in front of Bill’s head. _Spoon?_ he used their bond to communicate instead of words and Bill sent back, _Spork. Why are we talking about cutlery?_

And Tom rolled his eyes and thought how very patient he had to be sometimes, and replied, _how about looking in front of you, hmm?_

Bill looked up, frowned at seeing the fork Tom was dangling in front of him. “Why a spoon?”

Obviously Tom’s twin had not noticed the large tub of ice cream that was currently freezing his fingers off.

Tom used his words this time. “Because it’s really hard to eat ice cream with a fork?” He waved the tub temptingly and Bill grinned, just a little bit at the sight. “Hold this.” Tom handed Bill his spoon, and used his teeth to pry off the lid, making Bill giggle at his stupid face as he did so. He peeled off the paper cover and he saw Bill lick his lips.

“Strawberry?”

“Read the label, little brother. Real organic strawberry pieces.” Tom smirked as Bill’s eyes grew very wide. “Oh, and by the way….” He reached into his other pocket, drew out the packet of gummy bears. “Haribo send their love.” Bill held his hands out in silent demand and Tom threw them into his lap, watching as the smile he knew so well started to emerge properly. “Enjoy.”  
Bill didn’t answer, too busy ripping open the packet with both hands. Tom watched as he carefully picked out a handful of red and clear ones, sprinkling them onto the top of the ice cream that Tom still held up, his expression fiercely concentrated as he placed them just so. When he was happy, he put the bag aside (for later, he assured Tom) and handed over a spoon. Tom balanced the tub on his knee.

“On three?”

“One. Two...” Tom counted them down.

Three!

They both dug in, drew out huge spoonfuls of the thick mixture and they made identical groans of contentment when it finally made contact with their tongues. Jesus Holy Fucking Christ, screw everything else right now, this ice cream was the fucking shit, Tom decided as he dug in again.

“Mmm… s’good.” Bill mumbled as he ate, going back for another scoop. Georg was a god for introducing them to this, Tom shared with Bill over their bond, even if they’d never tell him because they didn’t want him getting a big head over it. They were nice like that. Bill just sent back the feeling of contentment that meant he was getting over being dramatic and back to being Bill. Now, serious time.

“Worth every euro,” Tom agreed before sighing. “So what the fuck was that upstairs?” He cut right to the point, figuring that if Bill was given enough time he’d push it back and pretend nothing had happened. Tom didn’t think David could handle another practise session cut short by Bill running out; he’d throw a bitch fit and Tom _really_ didn’t want that to ruin his summer holiday. It was only their third week, but he rather liked the freedom to be on his own and David being all pissy would no doubt put a whole lot of downer on that.

“What was what?” Bill shifted, stuffed another spoonful in his mouth and kept it there so he wouldn’t have to answer Tom’s question. Not that it would help. He had to swallow sometime.

“Do not make me take the ice cream away, Bill.” He pointed his spoon at his twin. “You making strangled cat noises and freaking out the rest of us, before you cutting and running to be emo out here.” He used his own spoon to block Bill’s from going in for more. “And stop being greedy.”

“Am not.” Bill countered automatically. “And… I don’t know…”

“Stop lyin’, Bill.” Tom mumbled through his mouthful and swallowed before he pointed his spoon at his brother. “-Oh.” He raised his eyebrow. That had been unexpected. Bill coloured, pressed a hand to his throat as he tried to speak and that noise came out again – quieter this time, less impressive that it had been in the recording studio but still a shock to the system.

Suddenly, Tom clicked what it was that was making Bill suddenly sound weird and he fumbled with his spoon as he felt Bill trying to run away again from the thoughts in Tom’s head. “Ah.” Tom put the ice cream down, held his hand out to Bill who had sat up to his knees, looked like he was about to bolt again. “No – No, stop!” Tom grabbed for Bill’s hand. “It’s fine, Bill. It’s just normal-“

“How the fuck can it be _normal_?” Bill wailed, dropping his spoon into the tub of ice cream with a dramatic huff. “I sound _terrible!”_

“What, and you don’t normally?” Tom tried to joke but Bill glared at him. “Alright, look – no, I’m sorry Bill. That wasn’t fair.” He tugged and Bill slowly sat down again, but he didn’t look convinced, still looked as though he’d bolt at a moment’s notice. Tom put the lid back on the ice cream, one handed, and lobbed the spoons on the grass. They’d go inside after this, it was getting cold anyway. He wiped his mouth, still holding onto Bill with his left hand, terrified that if he let go Bill would bolt and he’d never catch him up until bedtime. “Come here, Bill.”

“Why?” Bill looked mutinously at the grass, but he didn’t let go of Tom’s hand. That was a positive sign at least.

“Because I said so.” Invoking the Big Brother Authority, Tom pulled again and Bill shuffled closer so that Tom could lean back against the tree and put his arms around Bill to draw him against this chest. Bill came willing enough after a second or two of obligatory resistance so he didn’t feel like he was giving in completely, tucking himself into Tom’s side and curling an arm over Tom’s belly. _Twin space_ Mama called it – that they really had no sense of personal space around each other – Bill saw nothing wrong with virtually climbing into Tom’s lap during films or even sharing a seat with him in the recording studio during a training session on the equipment, and Tom saw equally nothing weird about holding Bill’s hand or throwing an arm around Bill’s shoulders when they were writing lyrics together. It was the way they did things and both Georg and Gustav had come to accept it even if they did throw them odd looks every so often.

“Why do I sound like that?” Bill muttered into Tom’s oversized hoodie. “What’s happening to me?”

“Puberty.” Tom winced as Bill stiffened at the sound of the word. He knew why Bill was so tense and he grimaced as Bill’s mind started on a whirlwind and he caught the edges of it in his mind. Poor Bill didn’t exactly have an easy time adjusting to growing up; it had all started when they hit twelve and school made all the boys sit in the hall and watch a video on the _‘Joys of Becoming a Man’,_ Tom’s twin had near on died of embarrassment, unable to actually watch the screen. He’d spent the entire time with his hands clamped over his ears, and his face in Tom’s shoulder. Afterwards, at home, when they curled up on Tom’s bed like normal, Bill had confessed why he’d been unable to watch as the video explained masturbation, cleaning under the foreskin, discussed sex frankly.

Stuttering, and not looking at Tom, Bill had let it out that he still felt inside like a child even if he was starting to grow up on the outside, that he didn’t like what was happening to his body, the changes frightening him in a deep way that Tom had never thought of before. Bill didn’t like being out of control but that was exactly what ‘puberty’ meant to Bill – being out of control and a slave to hormones and to desires that sprung up so fast you didn’t know where they came from or what to do with them now they were here. Tom knew that his other half struggled with the _nightly_ activities that came with the hated word, didn’t like to touch himself like that because it felt… weird. Grown-up. Meant acknowledging a lot about himself that he didn’t want to. Bill wriggled and pulled away, trying to escape from the imminent conversation.

“Ah, no, Bill. Stop it.” He gripped tighter, and Bill huffed as he relaxed back into Tom again after a brief attempt to run again. “It’s fine – we all go through it.”

It was true – Georg slipped Tom porn mags now and then with a grin and a tap to the side of his nose, and Gustav had chucked a bottle of lube at Tom when they were a little bit drunk and a lot giggly discussing the best way to wank one night after finding some softcore porn on the TV (David had been wise enough to block the hardcore stuff at least) and Tom had been bemoaning the uselessness of just spit. They all knew not to interrupt when a sock was hung on the door of a bedroom because that was _private time_ and when Tom was in the shower, he often took care of what his nightly dreams of various actresses, girls from school, and the lovely ladies from Georg’s magazines had produced.

Bill on the other hand… Innocent, sweet Bill who was terrified of growing up didn’t discuss it, didn’t think about it, skipped the classes where they discussed sex and growing up and the dreaded word ‘puberty’ was bandied around non-stop, and could be found lurking in the toilets instead, reading a book or just sitting on the seat, hoping that nobody came to find him. Bill who shrieked when Georg left a magazine of naked ladies or gents hanging around the bedroom, who blushed and covered his ears when Gustav started waxing lyrical on sweet _Marie’s_ boobs, who still wanted to come into Tom’s bed for cuddles and reassurances in the middle of the night when he had a nightmare.

Maybe it was a reaction to losing Dad, maybe it was just a Bill thing, maybe it was a thing that needed Mama’s wise words ( _Don’t you fucking dare go to Mama,_ Bill had threatened him when Tom had said about it the first time, though), Tom didn’t know. He’d been happy enough to go through it first, learning to wash his own sheets after the enlightening discussion Mama had sat him down at the kitchen table and had with him about being a man and taking up some more responsibilities for his own things – translation: _wash your own sheets, because I’m not touching your spunk, Tom -_ learning what felt good when he touched his dick, what made him hard and what didn’t, how to deal with it when he popped wood at his desk at school when he’d been thinking about algebra and not girls (fun times were had while he waited for it to go away).

But now it was going to be impacting their music, and Bill couldn’t run away from that.

Tom wouldn’t let him.

“Bill.” Bill dug his head further into Tom’s chest, enough so that Tom could feel Bill’s eyebrow piercing even through the t-shirt and hoodie and Tom pulled on Bill’s hair to bring him out a bit. Tom wasn’t Georg – he didn’t have the extra padding to let Bill dig his head into his ribs without pain. “Bill, stop it.” Bill’s frustration echoed through their bond but he was nice and stopped trying to press through Tom’s bones to rest his cheek next to Tom’s heart and instead settled for slumping on top of him, digging a couple of bony fingers into Tom’s side in retaliation. “Bitchy.” Tom muttered and he could feel Bill’s reluctant amusement seeping through his mind. “It’s not the end of the world, Bill. We’ll make it through your voice breaking like we always seem to make it through everything else that gets thrown at us…”

“But it’s not fair.” Bill whinged, muffled by the hoodie. “I dun wanna grow up.”

“Tough shit.” Tom shrugged as he felt Bill’s irritation return. “Look, Bill. I did it – went through it, made all the stupid sounds that I could. In front of Mama, Gordon, in front of girls, you name them _I fucked up in front of them._ You laughed yourself sick at me when I managed three octaves in the same sentence.” The memory still made him colour – Bill had nearly pissed himself and even Mama had had a smirk that she’d hidden behind her hand. “But you’ll be fine.”  
“But what if my voice is still terrible afterwards?” Bill asked, fiddling with the hem of Tom’s shirt where it stuck out under the hoodie and Tom got the impression that he was suddenly getting a real look at why Bill was so worried about growing up. “What if I can’t sing anymore and we get dropped and Durch den Monsun is just another one hit wonder?”

“It won’t.” Tom spoke confidently, wanting to drive that thought out of Bill’s head for good, “It won’t sound crap. It’ll sound like mine, and mine’s okay now, isn’t it?” He was trying to be supportive here, no use reminding Bill that Tom still occasionally had moments when he could reach falsetto if he wasn’t paying attention.

“’spose.” Bill mumbled.

“It’s fine, Bill. Everybody goes through it and nobody dies from it.” Technicalities aside at least. “David’s right; we’re onto something here. We got picked up right after Sony dropped us, didn’t we? They’re investing a shit ton of money in us – they wouldn’t do that if they didn’t think we could go the distance, would they?” Bill shook his head a tiny bit. “They’re not new at this, they know real talent when they’re looking at it. If they say we’re good, we’re good and nothing is going to change it. Not _puberty_ , not your voice changing, nothing.”

He spoke firmly, and he felt Bill turn over the thoughts in his head, processing them slowly but with a calmness that made him feel more confident that Bill was actually considering it and not just pretending to listen before freaking out again. “And besides, like I said. I made it through the voice breaking thing, didn’t I? It’s not the end of the world, Bill. Listen to my voice – that’s what yours will sound like. Maybe a bit higher because yours has always been that way but basically like mine.” He waited for a moment to let that sink in, let Bill think on it in his own way.

In the silence as he thought, Bill snuck a cool hand under Tom’s hoodie, laying it flat on his side but Tom ignored it, didn’t comment on it. Bill was just looking for 'touch love' as Mama put it – the skin to skin reassurance that everything was going to be okay. “David’s probably prepared for it, you know. We’re not the first band he’s managed through stuff like this.”

“Mm…” Bill sighed but Tom knew he was calming down now, coming back to reality rather than wanting to run.

“We’ll sing back up for you, me and Georg and Gustav,” He promised, reaching a hand down to pull up Bill’s t-shirt to place his own hand on the small of Bill’s back, the warmth seeping into his own flesh. He felt Bill’s approval at the move immediately. “Just until your voice is strong enough to carry it through. And David wants you to lip-synch some stuff, as well – just for the big concerts where it’s too much to sing live at the moment…”

Bill nodded and Tom stroked his hand up and down, soothing away the tension that Bill had gathered from the stressful afternoon. The sun had almost set now but the air was still warm and Tom was in no hurry to go back inside, whatever David said. He was content to sit out here, with a tub of melting ice cream, two spoons lost in the grass, under a tree with his twin and just be.

All too soon though, and the air turned cold, and the wind began to pick up, ruffling Bill’s hair and sneaking under Tom’s top to trace irritating fingers across his skin and raising goose bumps in its wake. He nudged Bill, and sighed. “Come on, Bibi. Time to go in.”

Bill grumbled but he was cold as well and soon enough they were both standing on their feet, Bill holding the spoons which had bits of grass all over them, and clutching the bag of gummy bears to his chest possessively. Tom picked the ice cream, wincing as he heard it sloshing around, “I’d better just chuck this away,” he muttered as he thought wistfully of the thick frozen treat it had once been.

“I’ll pay for the next one if you want?” Bill offered, “It’s my fault that it melted.”

“Yeah, alright.” Tom said, affably. Bill paying for something was a rare thing indeed and he was determined to capitalise on it. “And the banana one as well?” He liked banana flavoured things too even if strawberry was his favourite.

Bill rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Tom was doing but he conceded it with a smile – a proper one that made his eyes crinkle a bit and made his face light up from the inside. “And the banana one as well.”

When Bill had adjusted the stuff in his arms to his liking, he extended a hand to Tom, and he looked at it. Well, Bill was still terrified of puberty, and one day Tom was going to have to have a long talk with him about the joys of boobs, how amazing it could be to play with yourself, and all the wonders and mysteries of women with the aid of one of Georg’s magazines (and possibly the joys of men but he needed way more than ice cream to have that conversation…) but right here, right now?

They were okay. Bill wasn’t freaking out over his voice anymore, Tom was in the clear from David for causing a rift between them (honestly, ten fights and the man thinks it’s always his fault – Bill started most of them) and they had had enough sugar to keep them awake all night long.  
He took Bill’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We good?” he asked, just to make sure.

Bill grinned back. _We’re good._  



End file.
